Searching
by Siamesa
Summary: Upon hearing stories from some of the older members of the Rebellion, Luke Skywalker becomes convinced he's discovered the identity of his mother. However, he ends up with more answers than he wanted. PostANH, AU.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Star Wars. Yeah. Supposed I'd better put that. Anyway, this is chapter one, dunno when the next one's going to be up but probably sometimes next week. I hope you enjoy! Smiles. Lou.**

* * *

The Millennium Falcon was not a particularly streamlined ship, but that had no bearing at all in space. What she was was a fast ship, a good ship, a ship that was almost always fixable.

Almost always.

Luke Skywalker, his head morosely resting on one shoulder, stared off at nothing in particular, thinking. He really hoped the ship wasn't going to break down- she'd shuddered oddly when entering hyperspace, and despite Han's reassuring words, Luke knew full well that that was _not _a good sign.

And he needed to get where he was going soon.

Those had been the conditions. He was a wanted man and a valued pilot. He had been given two days, and if he went over them- High Command had been sympathetic, but not that sympathetic.

He supposed he might've been given more time had he not been taking a member of the Command along, but Leia had seen something in his eyes and insisted on joining himself and Han.

"I've heard of her," she had said. "She was- I think my father knew her. She was a great person."

Luke had looked at her. "Do you think she was my mother?"

It was the same question he'd asked Mothma, Reeikan, a very unhelpful _Han_ for goodness sakes- anyone who looked like they might have some memories of the Old Republic. Even Mon Mothma, who'd told him Padmé Amidala's name to begin with, had told him- multiple times, trying to spare him from being crushed- that she wasn't sure.

"I just know that if Anakin Skywalker was in love- and I can't quite get my mind around that, the Jedi poster boy- but I didn't know him. I only really knew the Senator herself through reputation. But, Commander, if he was in love, she would be a probable candidate. He was her bodyguard on and off for years. There were I a few times I caught them staring at each other- I didn't wonder then. But sometimes I wonder now."

It was the only lead Luke had. His _mother._ He'd known his father's name for years- back when he thought that the Jedi- the Jedi _hero, _according to what little information he'd found- had flown on spice freighters.

And he knew that his father was dead. And he knew that that was all he was ever going to know, because with Ben Kenobi dead, the only other person- thing- in the galaxy apt to know anything about Anakin Skywalker's death was Vader.

And Luke doubted he'd have many chances- or really want many chances- for a heart-to-heart interview with _him_.

But Padmé Amidala was different. She had a history. _Leia _had heard of her, for instance, though Han drew a blank. (Luke doubted Han could name any former senators who weren't Leia, and possibly not even her.)

"Luke?"

And there was Leia now.

"Luke, are you all right?"

Luke nodded slowly. "Yeah. How much longer?"

"_Captain Solo_ says about two hours." Her tone suggested she doubted this.

"Han figured out what that thing jumping into hyperspace was?"

Leia shook her head. "No. He doesn't seem too worried, but I doubt he'd be worried if one of the engines fell off."

Great. They were having another one of their arguments. Over the months he'd known them, this pattern had established itself. There would be cheerful periods where everyone was on a first name basis and supply missions and command briefings went well- and then there would be the days on end when they'd refuse to speak to each other and Han would threaten to leave the Rebellion.

Frequently, in fact, this cycle could occur in a matter of hours, and as the months had gone by it had gotten worse.

But Luke had other things to worry about. In fact, he had a great deal of things to worry about.

Several more than he knew.

-

The Emperor had been in a nasty mood since the destruction of the Death Star. Darth Vader could sympathize up to a point, if sympathy remained in his nature, which it didn't. But he was also a bit upset- the Death Star had been a mistake, of course, and he had almost been pleased it was gone and attention could be focused onto more important aspects of the galactic conflict.

Such as the name of the Force-strong pilot who'd made that lucky shot.

But Palpatine, being furious, had decided to take out his anger by tormenting those who served him, and that was the reason that instead of prowling around his ship glaring at incompetent flunkies, Vader was on this accursed mission.

He did not really understand the _point _of sending him to Naboo, unless it was solely to make him detest Sidious more than he already did, which, to be honest, it probably was. It was _her _planet, the planet where Anakin Skywalker had had some of his few happy days, the place that still bordered on the edges of his dreams when he let his guard down.

So far in the voyage from Imperial Center, three officers were dead and another had deserted, and Vader was trying fervently to meditate and ignore all sentient presence around him.

Returning without a crew was almost certainly what Palpatine _wanted._

-

"I'm worried about the kid, Leia."

Leia sighed. "Captain Solo, Luke is going to be-"

"He's convinced himself this woman he's never even heard of is his mother! He's giving himself false hope, and then he's just going to-"

"I didn't realize you cared."

Han just glared at her.

Leia sighed again. "Luke knows better than that, Captain. He's just trying to explore all the possibilities-"

"You and I both know that's not true, your Highness."

There was silence.

"He just wants a family, Han." Leia's voice was soft, and she wasn't completely sure she'd spoken aloud.

Han was about to make another remark about how she didn't understand the situation at all- he'd spent a few years back when he was Luke's age wondering who his parents had been, but it was a big galaxy and you couldn't go chasing off after every little sparkle in the distance when you had real life to live- but then he thought better of it.

"He's got you," suggested Han. _You've got him._

Leia shook her head, staring at her fingernails. "I'm worried about him, too. Padmé Amidala- she died, unmarried, twenty years ago, a few days before his birth's even on the records. He won't _listen._"

Han, without really considering why, put his hand lightly on her shoulder. She did not shake it off.

-


	2. Chapter 2

**I am sorry this one's a bit short. The next one is probably going to be longer. Thanks for reading! Smiles. Lou.**

* * *

"That's Naboo?"

Luke's voice shook only slightly as he stared out the porthole at the green and blue planet. Something about this place felt _right._

"That's Naboo," confirmed Leia.

Luke hadn't seen very many planets from space. Even once he'd joined the Rebellion, most of his missions hadn't involved time for sight-seeing. His eyes widened involuntarily as the Falcon entered a closer orbit. "It's beautiful."

"From up here," said Han, joining in the conversation from his seat. "It's not so pretty once we get down. Swarming with Imps."

"We'll be fine," said Leia. "I hope."

Luke merely nodded absently. "You two don't have to come," he said, almost offhand.

"We aren't leaving you alone, Luke." Han's voice betrayed more worry than he wanted it to. "But are you sure-"

"I need to find out who she was, Han." With that, Luke stalked out of the room, headed for the cargo hold and their rather rudimentary disguises.

Both his friends stared after him.

"Stang, I wish Chewie were here. He could probably knock some sense into the kid."

"Han, haven't we had this discussion-"

"I know, I know, but honestly, I'm starting to wonder if he'd all happy like this even if the Emperor was his mother."

Presumably that sentence had not come out the way Han had intended. "If the Emperor was his _mother?"_

"Or Mothma, or somebody," continued the smuggler. "All I'm saying is, he's acting insane."

Leia sighed. "It's the Force, Han."

"You are _not _buying into that-"

At that moment, the ship was hailed. "Come in, unidentified craft. You are entering a restricted travel zone. Please state your name and business."

For a second, Han was afraid he'd forgotten the false name of his ship- that's what came of letting some one else pick it out. "Hello, Naboo, this is the _Star's Fortune,_ on a recreational trip. Civilian."

Behind him, Leia made a rather disapproving noise. "You were supposed to-"

"Destination?"

"Um, the capital."

"Theed," put in Leia.

"I know that," said Han. "I was just trying to clarify it for them-"

"Do you have clearance codes?"

Confident he could at least to _this _to Her Highness's specifications, Han fed the code into the reader.

"Confirmed, _Star's Fortune. _Welcome to Naboo."

_Well, _thought Han, _there goes the easy part._

_-_

The streets of Theed were wide, stone, and far, far too empty.

"I have a really bad feeling about this," muttered Han out of the corner of his mouth at Leia, who continued staring straight ahead.

The _Falcon _had touched down easily in a mostly-deserted hangar, which in Han's opinion had been suspicious enough. _He,_ at least, had lived in the real world long enough to know that when there are less enemies around than you thought there would be, it meant that they were in your ship stealing your spice.

Or the relative Imperial equivalent.

Luke ignored the both of them. He'd been given directions to the tomb- she _died,_ everyone had repeated, over and over- by High Command, but he was barely glancing at them. He knew where he was going.

And he knew, more than his friends thought that he did, that they thought he was being a fool.

But they didn't understand. Something about this felt _right._

And then, as their destination came into view over a small hill, something felt very, very wrong.

-

The details of the mission had merely confirmed Vader's belief that Palpatine had merely sent him to this accursed place out of pure sadism.

And Darth Vader could, up to a point, understand that. Certainly he was going to enjoy causing suffering to anyone who looked at him sideways on the voyage back to Imperial Center.

But that did not justify sending him _here._

Nothing, nothing in the universe, could justify sending him here. What did his master think he had been _doing?_

"Milord?"

Vader did not even turn to look at the officer.

"Milord, we are still unable to locate the base commander."

That was the mission. A commander of a remarkably unimportant base on an incredibly- _completely_- insignificant planet had failed to return from his lunch break.

And for some reason this required the time of the second most important person in the galaxy. All plans for Sidious' destruction had been moved up several slots in Vader's mind. He was not a _lapdog._

"Milord?"

The officer was about two syllables away from death by this point. "If-"

"I will supervise the search myself."

Anything to get off this place sooner.

He could feel several of the base's inhabitants staring after him in alarm, but he ignored them.

The streets were vacant except for a few stray stormtroopers. Those, too, were ignored. There was no sign of anyone who could possibly be the base commander, but Vader was scarcely even looking for him.

He strode down the streets. He had left his memories behind years ago. Decades ago. He knew that. This planet should have had no more effect on him than any other site of an unimportant mission.

He tried to turn his mind to other things. The complete failure of Imperial intelligence on the Rebellion lately. His new flagship being behind schedule. The Empire was a mess. He would fix that, of course, when he ruled it. No more funds wasted on gigantic battle stations, conspiracies among the Moffs made punishable immediately by death instead of just whenever Palpatine felt like it, the remnants of bureaucracy as eliminated as his master had once promised they'd be.

It could have been that way already.

For a second, Vader allowed himself to imagine what had once been his dream, himself- maskless, whole- standing, overlooking Coruscant. His wife beside them- their child-

He banished the vision. That was impossible now. At least he had had his revenge on Obi-Wan.

He was so preoccupied with _that _memory- _why _had Kenobi smiled when he died?- that he did not notice where his feet were taking him until he had already arrived.

Padmé's tomb.

He had seen it, years ago, in holos long destroyed. He had even been there, once or twice, decades ago. He had sworn never to give into that weakness again.

As he stood, fists clenched, trying to get his old dreams out of his head, he heard a furious yell.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: So sorry I haven't replied to reviews yet. I'll do so this afternoon, but lunch starts in two minutes and I wanted to get this up. Smiles!**

**Lou.**

* * *

Luke froze as he came over the hill. Before he even spotted the dark figure, he knew that something was _wrong. _Very wrong. Screaming in his ears about being _wrong._

And then he saw.

Darth Vader.

Darth Vader was standing in front of Padmé Amidala's grave.

The man who had killed his father was standing in front of his mother's grave.

He reacted on instinct.

-

They'd walked into a trap. Han knew it as soon as they cleared the hill and he saw Vader. They had somehow walked completely into a trap.

In the case of Luke, they appeared about to run directly into the center of the trap. As the kid sprang forward, Han grabbed his arm, pulling both him and Leia behind a mouldering stone wall.

"_What are you doing?"_ hissed Leia. Luke didn't respond.

Han glanced wildly back down the street. No Imps. They might have a chance if they ran now.

Luke chose that moment to speak. "_What is he doing here?"_ He wasn't bothering to keep his voice down.

"Waiting for us," muttered Han. "C'mon, we can make it if we-"

"_What is he doing here?"_

This was great. Insane. Luke had gone insane. Han was relieved that Leia had grabbed his friend's other shoulder, because the kid still looked like he was going to attack. "Luke, you need to-"

"_He has no right to be here."_

Okay, then. Not only were they going to have to run back to the _Falcon _while dodging Imperials, they were probably going to have to do it while keeping Luke from screaming out their position.

_Man, I wish Chewie were here._

That thought came at a very unlucky time. While Han considered how much easier his copilot could make this sort of situation, Luke continued to lose his self control.

Vader had killed Ben. He'd killed his father. His Empire had killed Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru.

And now he was standing at Padmé Amidala's grave as if he had some sort of right to be there, as if he was going to kill her too, was going to take every little bit of family away from Luke-

Without thinking much about it, Luke stood up.

Thinking even less about it, Luke drew Anakin Skywalker's saber from his belt.

And thinking not at all, Luke yelled something incomprehensible at the top of his lungs and vaulted over the wall.

-

The kid had gone insane.

-

The sound of the yell was almost immediately followed to Vader's ears by the familiar sound of a lightsaber igniting. Being a familiar sound did not mean it was an expected sound, of course.

Here. The Jedi- they had killed her- daring to challenge him here, of all the accursed places in the galaxy.

Vader spun unwillingly to face the intruder.

A boy. That was surprising, he supposed. Not an old enemy of the sort who still popped up from time to time. A new enemy.

At most times, he would have relished this challenge, a hunt for whoever had trained the boy- he was too young looking to have been a Padawan before the Temple fell- and a chance to get in some decent fighting as opposed to the mindless, endless routines of commanding a ship of people he wished would all die but could not kill all at once.

Right now, he just wanted the annoyance gone. Dead, and gone, and forgotten.

These thoughts had very little time to flash through his mind before the enemy let out another yell. "Get away from her!"

Of all things the boy could have said to seal his fate, that was probably near the top of the list. Vader did not deign to answer, merely flicking on his own lightsaber and taking a few steps forward.

The boy was holding his own saber all wrong, titled at a useless angle for defense.

The boy was holding Anakin Skywalker's saber.

-

Luke's thoughts returned to him about at the time Darth Vader drew his lightsaber.

_Oh, shavit._

He was in _way _over his head now. This was why High Command hadn't wanted to let him go. As the Sith strode towards him, Luke's thoughts swirled in a mix of fear and anger. He was about to die. Of his own recklessness. And he would never avenge his father and never know who his mother was and…

Vader raised a hand. The Force tugged at the weapon in Luke's hand, threatening to send the hilt spiraling out of his hand and towards Vader. Stubbornly, Luke clung to it. _Stay._

Vader's fist clenched, and Luke's knuckles whitened around the saber hilt.

He was going to die, and Han and Leia were going to die, and High Command was going to be _so mad…_

Vader spoke. "Give me that, boy, and your death will be quick."

"No," said Luke. His throat was dry with fear, and the word came out as much more of a squeak than he would have liked. "No," he repeated, braver this time.

"I do not give second chances." But the dark lord didn't step forward again. He paused, almost as if considering something, and when he spoke again seconds later, it was in a horrible tone. "You're the one."

Luke said nothing, adjusting his stance slightly. What did he mean?

"That _pilot._" Apparently being about to die meant you were not worthy of explanations. What pilot? Did he mean the Death Star?

He had to mean the Death Star. Kriff.

Apparently Luke's sudden appearance of panic was all Vader needed for confirmation. "Kenobi." Even in Vader's mechanical voice, the word was spat. "Kenobi trained you, didn't he, Rebel?" Two steps forward. He was now maybe five feet away from Luke.

It would have been lightsaber range had Luke been capable of that level of thought at the moment. How much did Vader _know?_

"And he gave you _that." _Another step forward.

Luke found his voice again at that line, with a sudden surge of courage. "My father-" he said. It was more difficult to talk than usual. There was pressure on his throat, though whether it was through the Force or his own terror he couldn't tell. "My father wanted me to have it."

And that gave him another rush of courage. He was about to die. He knew that, and it scared him. But, stang it all, he was _not _going to die without answers. He had spent too long searching for family, and he was _not going to die without answers._

Vader froze again for a brief second. "It was not his to give away."

Luke, furious now, managed to combine most of his questions and a good deal of his defiance into his next statement. "It was Anakin Skywalker's saber, I am Anakin Skywalker's son, and _get away from my mother's grave."_

Behind the two, Han's fist met his forehead in exasperation, and Leia clenched her fist around a rock as if hoping to crush it.

But Darth Vader didn't make a move as Luke Skywalker walked calmly around him, hoping his luck would hold.


	4. Chapter 4

**New chapter only a week late! Smiles! Lou.**

* * *

Over the years, Darth Vader had developed a simple system for dealing with things he did not understand or did not like. He killed them.

It was easy, effective, and direct, and had the excellent side effect of dissuading bystanders who might otherwise become things he did not like.

And it was clearly not going to work in this situation.

Any situation in which a Force-sensitive Rebel claimed in a loud voice that Anakin Skywalker had been his father and Padmé Amidala his mother needed a reaction more subtle than slicing the boy in half.

And it didn't help at all that part of him-

The Rebel was telling the truth.

Darth Vader knew it, suddenly. The Death-Star destroying, spy eluding Rebel was _telling the truth._

Under those circumstances, it was hardly surprising that it took the Sith several seconds to react to Luke's words.

-

Corporal Yaskii woke up with a splitting headache and very blurred vision, but despite that he tried his best to salute the empty air before realizing that it was empty.

Lord Vader had apparently left. Hopefully the base commander had been located- if Yaskii was going to be very hopeful, perhaps his older brother wasn't even dead- and everything was going to get back to normal.

He hadn't realized before this incident just how much he simply _loved _normal. Boredome, monotony, they called out to him with a siren's song-

"Sir?"

It was a stormtrooper holding a comlink. "Sir, we have reports of a situation. Should I authorize Maneuver Twelve?"

Situation… That couldn't be good. Yaskii's brain clicked along slowly. No, that wasn't good. Perhaps he should try to stand up.

The room spun in a confusing manner, but he stood steadily enough. "Sure… Yes. Authorize. Now."

The stormtrooper turned with precision. "You heard him, men. Move out."

-

There were two options ahead of Luke that he could see, and both of them were still "die here" or "die two steps in that direction." He wasn't a pessimist- those were just the obvious facts. He had gotten himself into the biggest mess of his life and he was about to die.

The reckless courage of having nothing to lose dissipated slightly with each step that took him further away from the frozen Darth Vader.

Maybe he could escape.

If he ran that way behind those buildings while his opponent was distracted, maybe he could escape-

That was when something grabbed him around the neck. He reacted instinctively with a kick behind him, which connected with what felt like a boot and which did not move in the slightest.

The hand around his neck lifted him several inches off the ground without letting go in the slightest. Luke tried another kick at thin air, grappling at the hand around his throat and gasping for breath.

He really did not understand how his situation could have suddenly gotten worse.

-

Han Solo was trapped hiding behind a wall while Darth Vader choked the life out of one of his best friends.

He'd had his blaster half-drawn ever since Luke had dashed out like an idiot, trapped between self-preservation and once again bailing the kid out of a mess. Beside him, Leia had her jaw clenched.

He was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking. It was what they were both thinking. They could run- they quite possibly stood a chance of getting out of the area while Vader was distracted- or they could try to help Luke. If they tried to help him, all three of them were dead. If they ran, hopefully only Luke was.

A few months ago, this would have been an easy choice. Han would probably have already left both Luke and Leia behind in the line of fire while he dashed for his ship. Kriff, he would probably be off planet by this point.

But now… Now self preservation was warring with friendship and a tinge of honor. He'd first faced this sort of situation with Chewie. Hadn't liked it then, didn't like it now.

Kriff.

The stun bolt hit the wall two inches from his hand.

-

Luke was scared again. He'd tried, over the past few months, to deal with scared. He was fairly sure that Jedi weren't scared, and so he'd tried to face everything with the same sort of "who-cares?" attitude that Han did.

He hadn't succeeded, of course.

He'd been scared to ask about his mother, even more afraid to actually visit Padmé Amidala's tomb, to face the fact that the answers might not be ones he liked. (And that his mother was dead, just as his father was, and his aunt, and uncle, and none of them were ever coming back for him). But when he saw Vader, he hadn't had time to acknowledge being afraid.

He'd just been angry.

The grip on his neck was now very carefully turning him around, he noticed vaguely as black spots began to form in front of his eyes.

Yep, it was definitely Vader.

It was Vader and he was going to die if he wasn't already dead and stang what was that over there that was stormtroopers Han Leia oh blast it all-

"_Who are you?"_

-

Almost before he saw the white light of the stun bolt, Han had fully drawn his blaster and aimed it towards the attackers.

Stormtroopers. A lot of them.

Beside him, Leia drew her own blaster and began firing. Han caught himself watching her for a few milliseconds instead of shooting.

The stun bolts were mixed with the light of regular blaster shot. Han wasn't going to ponder why and he wasn't going to stay around and wait to see which type would hit him. He jumped to his feet, pulling Leia up by one arm.

She glared at him, and he smiled crookedly back before returning his attention to the fact that their lives were in severe danger. There were boulders and more remnants of the wall everywhere, but not for long at the rate that the stormtroopers were hitting them instead of their targets.

Leia growled something under her breath, taking down a trooper almost point blank.

They were getting too close and there were too many of them.

They needed to run.

"On three we charge," muttered Leia.

Han spared a second to glance at her. He supposed running towards the stormies was better than running towards Vader (who was probably right behind them at this point if half the stories were true).

But the fact that it was Leia who was more willing to run than he was…

Han decided that once he had a few blaster shot free bits of spare time, he was going to ascertain just what his new priorities _were, _because they were getting on his nerves.


	5. Chapter 5

_Anakin's mind was elsewhere._

_He sat on the edge of the bed, his thoughts blurred. He'd lost more than half his men in that battle- and for nothing. They had been a distraction, and not even a good one. _

_The Separatists had won a small, out of the way planet with little life to speak of- and men he'd joked around with beside a campfire, men who had trusted him- had lost. _

_He clenched his fists around the bed sheet, twisting it. There had to be a better way- something he could've done differently. He shouldn't have listened to Master Windu- or should he have listened more closely? _

_He felt a soft hand on his shoulder. "Anakin?"_

_He didn't turn around. He couldn't. Padmé trusted him the way the troopers had. And someday something would happen to her and he wouldn't be able to stop it, either._

_-_

"Who are you?"

The Rebel whose neck he was holding made a gasping coughing noise and clawed again at his gloves, but otherwise did not respond to Vader's question. His face was turning that unpleasant color faces tended to in the seconds before unconsciousness.

Vader loosened his grip very slightly. He was loosing control. If this boy- if he was Anakin Skywalker's son_- _he was Anakin Skywalker's son- Obi-Wan I hope wherever you are you are in pain- if he was Anakin Skywalker's son, killing him would solve nothing.

That was an easier way to think of the Rebel. Possibly the son of Anakin Skywalker. Not of Padmé Amidala, because she was not important any longer. Definitely not of Darth Vader, who did not need-

The coughing noise this time was mixed with a groan, and Vader realized he'd tightened his fist again.

Before this situation entered any more places where it was not supposed to go, the Sith finally noted the presence of the stormtroopers. Good. They could tend to the prisoner, while he

(… left.)

(… burned this place to the ground then built something useful atop the remains.)

(… fell beside her tomb and begged her please please to come back to him.)

As the situation obnoxiously continued to zoom to Places It Was Not Supposed To Go at full speed, two frantically running shapes bowled over a dozen of the Empire's finest and sped off.

-

"So what do we do now?"

Han felt callous as soon as the statement left his mouth. Leia was bleeding, she looked close to tears- she, of _all _people, looked close to tears- and he had what he suspected were bits of stormtrooper on his left boot.

But she answered him anyway, with a scowl. "We go after Luke, unless you don't want to come."

"I don't leave people behind," he muttered more defensively than necessary. The statement wasn't a lie anymore, either, and that didn't concern him as much as it once would have.

Leia smiled at him. Genuine. And he stared back.

He was very close to kissing her, even if he wouldn't admit it, and she was very close to letting him, even if she'd admit that even less. But the moment passed.

"You're bleeding," said Han, unnecessarily gesturing towards the slash on her face.

"It's nothing." She looked him over pointedly. "You've got a blaster burn on your side."

Han glanced down at his shirt. The side of it was torn and scorched, and, sure enough, one of the stormies had almost had decent aim.

"It's nothing," he said, as obstinate as her.

Leia ignored him, reaching into a pocket for an emergency medkit, which she laid deliberately on the ground between them. Apparently they weren't quite to the shirtless-rubbing-with-bacta stage yet.

As Han wrestled with the badly packaged supplies, Leia, a fresh bandage on one side of her forehead, removed her comlink from another pocket, snapping it to an emergency Alliance channel.

Jammed. Of course it was jammed. She swore at it in frustration, and tried three more of them in quick succession.

Only static noise answered her. She swore again. Han glanced up at her and whistled softly in appreciation. Infuriating smuggler.

After a bit more tuning of the comlink, it became apparent that even local frequencies were unavailable, not that they would've been much use anyway. With distinct annoyance, she turned to Han.

"I don't suppose you have any illicit messaging systems on you?"

"Chewie does," he answered infuriatingly.

"Chewbacca," said Leia icily, "is at Wrielon Shipyards." At least a quarter of the way across the galaxy, in the mid rim. Han knew that, of course. He'd complained most of the last week about how his copilot was not a delivery boy for Mon Mothma's new pleasure yacht, ignoring both the facts that Chewie had volunteered and that the "pleasure yacht" was three Calamari cruisers with ion weapons a spy had managed to get them.

The smuggler glanced around him. The abandoned house they'd holed up in would probably stay intact through the rapidly falling night. The question was whether Luke would- but both of the Jedi's friends knew that there was no way they'd be able to set out after him now in the condition they were in.

They'd have to wait.

Han Solo hated waiting.

-

The eye lenses in Darth Vader's mask were slightly red-tinted. They distorted what reflection Luke could see of his own desperate face, and within them was no sign of humanity or mercy.

Which did not explain why he was no longer choking.

Oh, he was far from comfortable. He'd landed fairly embarrassingly on the ground, which was not the way to make a good impression of defiant revolution in front of the Empire. And his hands were cuffed, which was not pleasant in the least.

Vader stood with his back towards him, again facing Padmé Amidala's tomb. Luke's outburst had been for nothing.

"What did Kenobi tell you?"

The dark lord's voice was almost conversational. Luke decided, because despite everything he was still sure he had nothing to lose.

"About what?" Ow. Talking hurt his throat, and the words came out croaked and not at all snappy or rebellious.

"About your father."

* * *

**I am sorry this one's short. That just seemed like the perfect lead in to next chapter, you know? Smiles! Lou.**


	6. Chapter 6

_Luke was ten months old and beginning to stand up on his own, clinging to furniture and trying his hardest to bring the house crashing down on top of them all. Owen was in town for supplies, and Beru Lars was almost at her wits end for the third day in a row._

"_No, Luke! Don't-"_

_With a very satisfied grin, the child tugged even harder on the tablecloth, taking a very wobbly step forward. "Ah bah!"_

_Beru spotted the unstable pile of datapads on the table. She was going to have to have a word with Owen about leaving things lying around where their child could get to them- but this thought was swept aside as the metal rectangles followed the tablecloth off of the furniture and towards Luke._

_Before Beru could reach her nephew, they had landed on him. Luke burst into wails. falling to the home's stone floor._

_Beru swept the crying child up into her arms. "Are you alright, Luke?" He was too young to give any sort of coherent answer, but the wails slowly stopped._

"_Ma ma."_

_Beru said nothing, and held her child closer._

_-_

Luke's neck was bruised, and his knees were bleeding into his flightsuit. It hurt to talk, it hurt to breath, and it hurt to think about what was going to happen next.

The Imperials had captured him alive, and that meant they were going to have him tortured, and he did not know what he was going to do.

On the Death Star, Leia had held out. She was the strongest person Luke knew.

Luke did not know if he would be able to hold out under days of Imperial interrogation. He was a hero, a pilot, sort of a Jedi- and he would rather die than betray the Rebellion- but what if he didn't have a choice? Everything could fall apart because of him and a selfish need to know where he'd come from.

Mon Mothma had told him that Padmé Amidala had died for the Old Republic. Now her son- if he was her son- could easily die destroying what little remnants were left of it, and he knew that.

"_About your father."_

The pause after Darth Vader's words hung in the air. Luke drew in a ragged breath. "You killed him." He tried to muster as much hate into the words as he could, but Vader didn't even turn around to face him. The next words tore their way out of Luke's throat. "You killed my father!"

There was no response whatsoever. The stormtroopers, perfectly trained, didn't even spare him a condescending glance.

-

The Jedi Order of the Republic forbade attachment. A Jedi served the galaxy and the Force. Beings who were more important than others to a Jedi impaired judgment, impaired service. Strong emotions cut one off from tranquil purity.

No one had ever told this to Luke Skywalker, and it is doubtful he would have listened if they had. Family was important among the farmers of Tatooine- it could be all you had. They were a safety net. As much as Luke had scorned his uncle's plans for him- stay on the farm forever, marry a nice local girl, have a son who would do the exact same thing, ad infinitum- that had been family. It had been his life. It had been _how it was._

The Empire had taken his family from him. To Luke, that was everything.

And to them, it didn't matter at all.

-

"_You killed my father!"_

The answer was unsatisfactory and unhelpful. Whether the Rebel's father was Anakin Skywalker or not, Darth Vader did not doubt that he had killed him.

The Force battered him with defiant anger. That was good. Anger would lead to the dark side.

Padmé had left him. Obi-Wan had left him. He had learned long ago that if Palpatine saw an advantage in throwing him away, he would do it and make it painful. For two decades, Vader had neither had nor wanted anything that he could call a family.

He was allowing the idea of one to tempt him into dangerous gray zones, and that was not tolerable.

This could all be some trap by the Rebels.

_What does the Force tell you, Anakin?_

He barely recognized the echoing voice. It was no one he needed to listen to. It was just another light-blinded fool, who had died and left him alone in the care of Obi-Wan. And the long gone sage was talking to a dead man.

(That didn't stop the Force.)

He needed to step out of the gray zones. Kill the Rebel pilot before any potential was realized, and walk away from here, never to return.

He could see the body hitting the ground, just another enemy of the Empire dying for yet another hopeless cause.

He could see himself, a dark empress beside him, just another family with the galaxy in their grasp.

The train of though and decision took very slowly ticking minutes. They were agonizing for Luke, who expected to die having accomplished nothing.

Darth Vader turned around.

-

Sitting on the rough stone floor of the abandoned house, Leia Organa flung a hand to her forehead.

Something was wrong. She did not know what, she did not know why, and she did not have the slightest idea how she knew at all- but something was wrong.

"Leia?"

She turned to Han, who was trying his hardest to force his face into a look of concern. "It's nothing."

"Someone walked over your grave?" He smiled, as if the idea of graves was a joke to him. This was the Rebellion. They wouldn't get graves, they'd get a few particles floating out in space.

"We can't help him now," said Han almost comfortingly. "We can't- we can just help ourselves. You." He gestured with one hand as if she didn't get the point. "What's wrong?"

"I felt something." Her face darkened. They were too late, and she knew it. They shouldn't have run, or they shouldn't have come here at all. She had these feelings as a child. Before the mudslides buried half a village and the house where her aunts would have been had she not begged them to stay just a minute longer. When she first faced both the Senate and an assassination attempt.

When she knew, beyond anything, that Tarkin was not bluffing.

Han put out his hand, hesitated, then put it on hers. "We'll be all right. We all will."

She did not need comforting, least of all from him. She knew how to handle grief, and no smuggler whose greatest concern in life was not getting paid had any right to assume that condescending tone-

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

-

"_I _am your father," said Darth Vader.

* * *

**And it's another short-with-cliffie. I really am incredibly sorry how long updates have been taking, y'all.** ** Thanks for sticking with it so far anyway.** **Smiles!**

**Lou.**


	7. Chapter 7

Wrielon Shipyards in the Mid Rim. Hot, dry, and fume-filled, bustling with self important merchants and those who hung out just outside of the law solely for entertainment purposes.

Chewbacca did not like it there, to put it mildly. He hadn't been able to take the _Falcon_, he'd seen bounty hunters twice now who he did _not_ need to run into, and on top of that the Rebellion's contact insisted upon speaking to him very slow-ly be-cause clear-ly he could not un-der-stand Ba-sic be-ing an a-li-en and all.

"And so, we are having this problem- the ship is missing one of the engine components- one of the things that makes it fly-" Here the contact waved his arms in the air.

Chewbacca was very close to suggesting just where the contact could stick his "things that make it fly." But that would not accomplish anything. It was exactly the sort of thing Han would do, and Solo's idea of acceptable behavior was why there were bounty hunters after them in the first place. Chewie prided himself on being the relatively sensible smuggler on the _Millennium Falcon_. It would not do to rip the arms off of a man who, after all, _was_ risking quite a lot to get the Rebellion the ships that they needed.

"Then we called a mechanic- a man who fixes ships- and he said to us-"

It would not accomplish anything, Chewie repeated to himself.

-

There were certain things Darth Vader knew about this situation, and many things he did not. He knew that the Rebel in front of him had claimed to be the son of Anakin Skywalker.

He knew that the Rebel was right.

But this took the situation into new and dangerous territory.

(He did not even know the Rebel's name.)

Upon learning that his prisoner thought that he had killed his father, one of the few still available to be snapped things inside of the Sith had done so. The idea- that Obi-Wan had just walked away, picking up a trophy while his "brother" burned- and then what?

Then stolen his son. Not content with stealing Padmé, Kenobi had stolen his son.

And under this stress, Vader made the sort of impulsive decision that Anakin Skywalker had been infamous for.

"I am your father."

-

Words were not connecting properly with Luke's ears any more than they were coming out of his throat in the way he intended.

Because it was impossible.

The Empire lied. They said that they were fair, and just, that they didn't kill people or planets, that the Jedi had been traitors. And if, right now, they were telling Luke that his father was alive- that his father was standing in front of him about to kill him- well, they were lying.

Luke slowly shook his head, not even looking at Vader. "No," he said. He noticed that one stormtrooper had practically released his grip on his arm, while the other appeared to be trying to cut off all circulation. So they were surprised too.

What was Vader playing at?

"No," repeated Luke. "You're lying." He tried to make every syllable obstinate, a reflection of how completely sure he was that-

He wasn't sure.

It was impossible, completely impossible. Vader had to be lying. Anakin Skywalker had been a hero, who had been murdered, and who had left his newborn son with relatives on Tatooine- or however that had happened.

He was not Vader, he was not a lie, _he had existed and now he was __**dead**__._

His father was dead, his mother was dead, his aunt and uncle and Ben were dead- and no number of little boy wishes or Imperial lies would ever change that.

He should never have come here, and he knew it. Not only was he about to get himself killed, probably after having everything he knew about the Rebellion pounded out of him, he had as good as killed his two best friends.

He would not die even pretending to believe what Darth Vader had just said, though. He would _not._

"No." He sounded almost like a child.

"Search your feelings," said that mechanical voice that was _not _his father's. "You will know it to be true."

There was a pause.

"Son."

"_No_!" howled Luke, almost shaking one of the stormtroopers off.

_He is your father._

Now the Force was lying to him. Because Ben Kenobi, Owen and Beru- they could _not_ have.

Except that they had. Luke had grown up being told that his father was part of the crew on a spice freighter, dead in an accident. No one seemed to know much about his mother. And then Ben had told him that Anakin Skywalker had been a Jedi- that had been easy to believe. Now it turned out his mother had probably been a heroine of the Old Republic.

Was this new explanation any less likely than those?

_He is your father._

Luke bowed his head, staring at the cracked stone blocks of the ground as if they would jump up and save him. "No."

No.

-

Corporal Yaskii, in command of the Imperial garrison until replacements for his older brother and the other missing officers arrived, was trying his hardest to remain calm.

There were Rebels in his city.

Reports had already begun coming back- around a dozen men taken down by anywhere from one to five Rebels, either armed with arrows, blasters, or magic depending on whether he listened to the seasoned troop commander or the several very nervous new draftees.

This was what he had been dreaming of since he'd first decided to enroll in the Academy- a chance to prove his abilities to the Empire. With Darth Vader on planet and a Rebel invasion possibly imminent-

He was scared stiff.

Yaskii was not supposed to be in command. Up until two days ago, his biggest responsibility had been keeping his shoes shined while the senior officers commanded the skeleton garrison.

And now he was in charge and _oh stang they're coming back._

The officer gulped, hoping absently that his shoes were, in fact, shined.

-

Vader faced a dilemma.

In actuality, he faced multiple problems. There was the need to discover just how he had had a son for the last twenty or so years without anyone ever discovering this- or, at least, he himself finding out. There was figuring out just how much Darth Sidious had known, and what to do about it. There was purging every one of the thoughts of his wife that had surged up from his mind.

"Sir?" It was one of the officers from the base, sweating with fear. "Shall we escort the prisoner to-"

"Take him to my ship," said Vader.

The officer nodded frantically. "Yes, milord." The man turned in clear relief to walk off into what he obviously assumed was non-choking range- fool- but Vader stopped him with a raised hand.

"And the prisoner-"

"Yes, milord?"

"Find out his name."

* * *

**Thanks for reading so far! I'll try to have the next chapter up soon.**

**Smiles! Lou**


	8. Chapter 8

It really should have come as no surprise that the ruined house leaked. It barely had walls- it would have been hoping far too much for there to be a completely intact roof.

Han supposed he should count himself lucky that there were intact spots. Leia currently sat underneath one of them, cross legged and breathing deeply. It unnerved Han. Whatever had frightened her had frightened her _seriously._

Another drop of water hit him squarely on the head, followed by two more. This house hated him. He moved over, closer to Leia.

She acknowledged his movement with a slight nod and another breath. "What do we do now?" Her voice was completely calm.

"Wait for the storm to stop?" suggested Han. He leant back slightly, staring up at the ceiling.

This was a bad idea. Several drops of water landed on his nose.

But it was a better idea to him than bringing reality to the forefront and having her go all Alliance on him. There was no way they would be able to rescue Luke. The kid was probably dead already.

The thought hurt Han more than he wanted it to. Luke didn't deserve to be dead at- at however old he was.

But that was what happened to people with dreams. They chased them, and in the end they chased them right over a cliff or right into the path of a Sith Lord. It was life.

_If you thought that was life, you wouldn't have come back._

-

On the surface, this was going to be very easy. "Find out his name." It was routine, run of the mill, "how many others were with you, Rebel?", standard operating procedure. Lieutenant Yaskii knew there were at least five by-the-regulations ways to go about getting the information without even breaking out the interrogation equipment. Really, it was standard operating procedure-

But standard operating procedure did not factor in Lord Vader.

You did not disobey Lord Vader. You did not show disrespect towards Lord Vader. You did not _breath funny _around Lord Vader. How many commanding officers had his ship gone though lately?

Yaskii did not know.

The fact that there were multiple options meant that all but one of those options were wrong. If you were wrong around Lord Vader, and he was in a bad mood or your collar was on incorrectly or you sneezed- you died.

This was common talk amongst the officers of the base. The talks may have been why their disappearances were being investigated so seriously, but Yaskii did not know this.

And, confound it, was it an _important _prisoner? If the prisoner was missing fingers before Vader got around the official interrogation or execution or whatever he was planning, would that matter?

(The thought of severed fingers made Yaskii almost as queasy as the thought of his own impending death did, but not quite.)

In truth, the officer's rumors about Darth Vader were far overblown. He had been known to kill for what looked like ridiculous reasons, but random killing was not his style. A choked ensign's name may have sounded somewhat like "Kenobi," or there had been that one insistent on _blaring _his thoughts... But for the most part, being in the Sith's presence was not generally the one way ticket to death that so many thought it was. His flagship still had a crew, after all.

But that did not take into account his current mood.

So Yaskii's fears were justified.

-

Luke kicked morosely at one wall of the cell. He knew he needed to get out of here. He knew he should try to escape. He knew that if he didn't, he was worse than dead.

But he could not bring himself to get up.

Was it true?

He might've found the answer in the Force, but the Jedi instead tried to tune it out. Listening to the Force about his mother was what had brought him here in the first place. Here, to Naboo, and the tomb, and this cell with what looked like attachments in the walls for interrogation droids.

If he couldn't trust Ben- of course he trust Ben- the Force would probably lie to him, too.

The Jedi had not been allowed to form romantic relationships, to fall in love. Anakin Skywalker had been the poster boy for the Jedi during the Clone Wars, a celebrity, a hero.

Either he had broken the Code and was no hero, or he had never been Luke's father at all.

Neither possibility made _sense. _Who was he kidding-none of it made _sense._

He could and probably would have continued in this train of thought for hours had the Imperials not entered the room.

He fixed them with a glare. Confused or not, he was _Luke Skywalker_. (Probably). He'd blown up the Death Star. He led Rogue Squadron. He generally ate lunch with a smuggler and a member of High Command.

He was possibly the son of their boss.

And now that he had, finally, a clear goal in mind and _something _that was unequivocally the enemy, he could handle this.

For several moments, Luke's eyes and the cold brown ones of the Imperial leader met. The Imp gave a tilted, malevolent, and slightly nervous smile.

"Cooperate with us, Rebel, and you'll find that we treat you rather well." The sentence was foreboding enough, but it was stammered out with a pause in the middle.

Luke now had enough confidence for a small snort. The ensuing head movement hurt his neck, but the consternation in the Imp's face was worth it.

Clearly they had no clue how to deal with him, and that meant they didn't know what was going on either. Luke rehearsed in his head the protocol for getting captured- deny being with the Rebellion. He'd just waved a lightsaber around, and he doubted that would work. _"If you must have a dramatic final speech-" _rank, squadron name, and as much false information as seemed realistic.

"What is your name, Rebel?"

Luke didn't answer.

"Your name!" repeated the officer, a bead of sweat appearing on his forehead.

Stang. These guys appeared to have even less clue about what was going on than Luke. It occurred to him that despite being the one trapped in a cell, and them being the ones with large amounts of weaponry, he might have a slight upper hand.

"Luke Lars," he said, deciding at the last second upon the half truth. It was the name he'd been registered under on Tatooine, after all. He'd always found it odd as a little boy that he had a different name at home than at school- for the years he actually went to school, anyway.

So if they tracked it down, "Luke Lars" existed, the nephew of two murdered farmers- but they probably weren't listed as "murdered" in the Imperial records- the son of whoever they listed his father as and "mother unknown." He'd been last seen by an old friend in the company of "that old hermit guy, the crazy one," in Mos Eisley, and after that had disappeared.

It wouldn't be too much of a stretch for him to have joined the Rebellion, but it would certainly be a long shot for him to be the son of either a Jedi or Darth Vader.

The Imperial appeared fairly shocked to have gotten his information so easily, but with a pronounced expression of relief, he and the guards exited the cell without even bothering to ask for more information.

Luke leant back against the wall, bereft now of distraction.

He closed his eyes, and waited.

-

Leia Organa gave the sleeping form of Han Solo an affectionately exasperated glance before once more checking her still-useless comlink.

She too, closed her eyes, and waited.

-

Night fell on the city.

* * *

**My sincerest apologies for how late this one was- spring break didn't leave much time for this site.**

**Smiles! Lou.**


	9. Chapter 9

_Morning dawned on Naboo, clear and beautiful. Padmé, still asleep, didn't bother to notice, but Anakin stared into the sun. The beams coming through the window seemed tangible, caressing his wife's hair and sending sparkles dancing._

_He felt at peace. He could not remember the last time he had felt at peace._

_But here, after breaking the code, after entering into something that had the potential to turn his life upside down and rip it into pieces- he felt content._

_He rested his head on her shoulder and knew that tomorrow he would have to return to the war._

_-_

Morning brought hope. It was a universal fact, even when it wasn't true. In the light of day, your enemies were no longer shadows in the dark- they were tangible, and you could fight them.

They could also fight you, Han reminded himself. Light or dark, there was nowhere in life that was really safe.

But against his cynical better judgment, the morning reassured him anyway. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a sunrise.

Well, he decided, he was going to see more of them, and so was Leia- and so was Luke. They would be able to get out of this. He yawned widely, giving the ruined house a final lookover. Hopefully he would never see _it _again-

The sunlight was coming down through cracks into the roof onto a completely bare floor. Empty. Leia-less.

"Are you coming, flyboy?"

She stood between him and the doorway, a determined smile on her face and a crackling comlink in one hand.

Yep, morning brought hope.

-

Han only took a few seconds to sling on his holster and take their small bag of supplies from Leia in an exaggeratedly gallant gesture, stuffing it awkwardly into his coat. Leia could think of a thousand people she would prefer to have at her back on this mission.

She was sure she could.

But he was what she had, after all. The night had been miserable. Neither of them had gotten much sleep. Around three she'd turned over to see Han staring at the ceiling, and she'd known that they felt the same way.

Luke's rescue was impossible.

Leaving him behind was impossible.

Luke had gotten her out of the Death Star. He'd run missions, and seen death, and lost his family- and he'd still kept that idealism, that _innocence_ even with a twenty thousand credit reward for the name of the man who blew up the Death Star hanging over his head. He didn't _deserve _this.

So he'd wanted to find his mother. Luke Skywalker did not deserve to die just because he wanted to find his mother and had taken it to foolish extremes.

If Leia had learned one thing in her life, it was that the innocent suffered. But that did not make it _right. _That did not make it fair- and that did not mean she was going to leave Luke in the clutches of the Empire.

They would bring him back. Perhaps they'd bring his body back. Perhaps they'd die trying.

But this was the Rebellion. It was founded on idealistic idiots and people who would die trying.

Han gave her a lopsided grin, and she gave him a confident answering one.

"Where next?" he inquired. "The _Falcon _should be east of here, if they're keeping him in orbit."

Leia shook her head. "He's still here." She didn't know how she knew it. But Luke was still on the planet, dead or alive, and he needed them. "For now."

Han nodded. It made sense that they'd keep him in the base while the Imps finished up whatever had brought them here. (Unless, of course, Luke had brought them here himself, but Han didn't believe that. Sending _Darth Vader_ to capture three Rebels was too much overkill even for them.)

"So, let's get to the base."

The sunlight came down from behind Han, giving his words a dramatic glow, the final statement before the climax of some over the top holodrama.

From that viewpoint, there was something she needed to say. "You're a good man, Captain Solo." She paused. "It's been a honor."

He didn't respond immediately. His eyes widened slightly, and his head bent down. Leia began to regret her overly dramatic phrasing. He was probably going to swear and make a lewd comment before they-

He kissed her.

-

Morning did not bring relief or hope to Darth Vader, who wanted very badly to be back on his ship. He had things to consider, officers to terrify, a _son _to try to comprehend- and this imbecilic corporal was giving a long, stumbling speech about his older brother.

"-And they were sighted, milord, sir, at a café yesterday down past the Tomb district, milord, before taking off, milord, and reports suggest they may have been taken hostage by the Rebel traitors, milord, and-"

He had repeated this information at least three times by this point, each time with more emphasis on how the command staff of the base were clearly innocent bystanders who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. It was clear that the man was far more interested in providing positive testimony about his brother than in actually giving Lord Vader information he was interested in.

This information did not include whatever situations the command staff had gotten themselves into. The command staff was irrelevant. Vader wanted to know the name of the prisoner.

He had made menacing "a-hem" noises twice now and after brief pauses the corporal had continued with his inconsequential ramblings.

"-Which concerns me, milord, because when we were younger he was always-"

_This is the only officer left at the base,_ Vader reminded himself. _If you kill him you will have to try to get sense out of the rank and file._

"-And he named it- urk…"

Corporal Yaskii's feet scrabbled at the floor as he tried to maintain posture while being held up by his neck.

"I do not care about your childhood pets, Corporal. I sent you to get information."

There. It appeared the man had finally remembered who he was talking to. Vader dropped him.

"Milord, I, sir-"

"The name of the prisoner." He was going to have this entire base shut down.

"Luke… um, Luke Lars, sir." Yaskii gulped in air.

Stepping on one of the corporal's hands as he went, Vader immediately strode from the room towards the cellblocks. Lars. _Lars._

That meant Tatooine. That meant his stepbrother, on Tatooine. His stepbrother, who, he had dispassionately noted right before the Death Star incident, had been killed by stormtroopers along with his wife.

He had not investigated the incident further. He had certainly not gone down to the planet himself. He had been occupied by Organa's escape and killing Kenobi.

His child had been stolen from him and hidden _right under his nose._ Raised by droid-stealing traitors and _Kenobi._ Thinking only that he was the son of a dead Jedi. Led into treachery and the Rebellion.

Vader nearly tripped over a cleaning droid in his hurry.

He was _definitely _going to have this entire base shut down.

* * *

**I hope y'all are still enjoying!**

**Smiles! Lou.**


	10. Chapter 10

Luke had not known that he possessed the ability to sleep in an Imperial cell. The cell's lone piece of furniture, a metal cot, was not comfortable, even by Luke's rather low standards. It took him quite a while to find a position where breathing did not hurt his neck. And the climate control at the base was apparently set on "Ice Planet."

His day, however, had been tumultuous enough that once he'd managed to get somewhat comfortable, Luke had fallen asleep almost at once, and he dreamed very little until the end of the night.

"_Ben?"_

_The ghostly figure didn't answer. Luke could just make out its roughly humanoid shape amid the mists._

"_Ben?"_

_He broke into a run, but the mist impeded his progress as if he was running through deep sand. The figure ahead didn't seem to be getting either closer or further away._

"…_Father?"_

_A sudden harsh metallic clanging scattered the mists, and the figure began to break apart-_

Luke shot awake to realize that the door of his cell had slammed open and Darth Vader was standing just beyond it.

It was not a pleasant way to wake up.

-

"And so, Chew- um, Chewbacca, is it?"

The Wookiee responded only with a glare. The Wrielon shipyards contact chose not to respond, if he even noticed.

"If you'll follow me out here- and this is a door, see, it's made of transparisteel-"

Apparently the man had also not noticed that- what felt like hours ago- Chewbacca had come _in_ though the same door, but that seemed to be par for the course. The important thing was that this meant they were headed for the ships, finally, and that meant Chewie would get to leave, and the sooner he got to do that, the less chance he would decide to kill this man from orbit.

Following the man out of the "magic transparisteel door," (which was incredibly substandard in quality), Chewbacca soon got his first close up look at the ships the Rebellion was getting out of this.

They were worth it.

To the unpracticed eye, they looked rather battered, and the ion cannon was old enough to still feature a Republic logo. The landing gear on the ship furthest to the left was warped badly, and all of them were liberally covered with rust and insect webbing- a sure sign that they hadn't been out in space for a while.

But to Chewie, who frequently voluntarily entrusted his life to the _Millennium Falcon_ and knew that one couldn't judge something just by outward appearances, they had all the signs of being able to hit the Imperials hard. With enough fighter backup and that ion cannon, they'd probably be able to take on a star destroyer.

And with that secure, he could return to base and see how much of it Han had destroyed in his absence.

This trip was looking up.

-

The city was no longer deserted.

It certainly couldn't be called thriving, not with what the Empire had done to it over the years, and the way the scattered citizens walked, eyes tuned on the streets below them, reminded Han of Mos Eisley when the Hutt was in town. But there was at least life. Some of that life was, of course, two stormtroopers per corner, but that was rather a minor problem.

Han was a smuggler, and Leia helped lead a Rebellion, and both of them knew more than enough about walking just unobtrusively enough that the Empire wouldn't bother them. Someone slipping from shadow to shadow with dramatic arm movements stood out- a couple strolling slowly down the street, hand in hand, was just comprised of two more people who hadn't been able to get out of Theed.

They _were _hand in hand.

It had seemed only natural. To be honest, what had seemed really natural to Han at the time was "just keep kissing," but finding Luke before they died took precedence over having a desperate fling before they did.

Holding Leia's hand was solid.

They weren't going to lose anyone else out here.

-

Leia squeezed Han's hand. She wasn't sure why she was still holding on to it. She wasn't a child, needing some big stuffed toy to cling to. She wasn't a teenager, either, falling for the bad boy without a second thought.

What she was was Han's friend, and _Luke's _friend, and she wasn't going to give either of them up without a fight.

Han squeezed her hand back, leaning his head over with a carefully blank expression.

"The base is around that corner, to the left," she hissed, having finally gotten his attention.

The smuggler nodded tightly, clearly insulted. "Your lead, Your Worship."

They'd discussed this a little bit before heading out (it was a much safer conversation topic than attempts at holodrama reenactments). If the base was built along standard Imperial lines, there would be a back door just around from the loading area. It typically wouldn't be as heavily guarded, due to supposedly being a secret, and with luck and a few good shots, Han and herself would probably be able to take down the guards and get into the building.

Then they just had to find Luke, and get him out past however many troops were there, _plus _Darth Vader.

And this was assuming that her feelings weren't delusions and that Luke was even still alive.

But it was far, far too late to back out now.

-

All things put into due consideration, Luke recovered quite well for a Tatooine farmboy pilot awoken by a Sith Lord.

_If he's my father, maybe he won't kill me._

That thought, while it allowed him to calm his breathing, was in all even more alarming than _goingtodienowgoingtodienowgoingtodienow. _It meant he was admitting that there might have been some truth in what Vader- and the Force- both of whom were liars- were telling him. It meant that he was making a critical mistake and assigning human emotions to an Imperial killing machine. And it meant he was considering not doing anything else that would give the Empire a reason to kill him.

After several seconds- or possibly years- of Luke staring and trying to fit all this together, Vader finally spoke.

"You do not know who you are."

This was true.

"You are _not _Luke Lars, or whatever else that traitor told you."

This was also true. And if Vader knew everything, well, Luke was going to risk something. For his _real _father.

"No," he agreed. "I'm Luke Skywalker."

"You are my son," said Vader, as if this would erase everything.

_I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your father. _

_Anakin worked on some freighter outta Mos Espa. _

_I don't remember your mother, Luke._

_Padmé Amidala was a great woman, Commander Skywalker._

"I'm Anakin Skywalker's son," Luke repeated, willing it to be true.

But he knew that it wasn't.

* * *

**And the new chapter's up! See y'all next week! **

**Smiles! Lou.**


	11. Chapter 11

**So. It's two months late. It's short. I haven't replied to reviews. And I'm putting the author's note at the top again. I promise you, next chapter will not be delivered so inauspiciously, but I hope y'all will enjoy this one anyway. **

**Smiles?**

**Lou.**

* * *

Days at the Imperial base in Theed followed a strict protocol. Wakeup call was at six standard units past the Nubian midnight- unless of course you happened to be on night guard duty.

After making an unfortunate remark that could have been construed to concern the weight of a ranking officer's sister, BR-114 had been on night guard duty for the past week. And he was not ashamed to admit that it had been hellish. Yes, he was trained and bred to serve his Empire- and he did. But it was one thing charging heroically into battle against Rebels, and entirely another to spend seven nights in a row, in the smoky darkness, fending off vagrants. It didn't help that shooting said vagrants was officially discouraged. No, BR had been forced to use diplomacy, which he had not been trained for, in several cases.

Shavit, he had hated night guard duty.

But now, with the base commander missing and the remaining staff overwhelmed, things were finally looking up for the miserable stormtrooper. Tonight, he would be able to sleep. Today, in fact, he would be able to sleep. Before the sun had quite come over the top of the broken dome to the east-BR had come to know the pattern of Naboo's sun's rise quite well over the past week- he would be fast asleep in his bunk, dreaming happily of shooting Rebels.

His thoughts continued in this happy vein until Han Solo shot him point blank.

-

Leia looked down dispassionately at the bodies of the two guards. Han had looked a bit shocked to see that she wasn't using a stun setting any more than he was, but the pirate could stand a bit more shock in his life.

Yes, he was _definitely _the one whose life needed to be spiced up with more impulsive decisions. Certainly not her.

But- Leia reminded herself, as if she had to- these people had Luke. The Empire would not hesitate to kill Luke, although perhaps stopping first to torture him. By all logic, in fact, he should be dead already.

He just _wasn't._ He was in there. Leia knew it. She knew it as firmly as she knew that there was still air going into her lungs or that the untrustworthy smuggler behind her would have her back to the death. Loathe as she often was to admit it, Han and Luke were- maybe not family. But the closest she would let herself have.

Leia kicked one armored body to the side- startling Han yet again- and grabbed a keycard from the belt of the other. She slid it into the lock.

Nothing happened. With a muttered curse, Leia slid the card into the lock once more.

"Not working," said Han unnecessarily. Leia paused to glare at him, and he raised his hands defensively. "Just sayin'. There must be something else to it."

Leia shook her head. "If there is, it's not visible. This base doesn't seem to be high security to begin with, and this is the back door." She gave the doorway another once over, then jumped slightly as Han's fist slammed past her.

A segment of metal and plastic buckled, and the door slid open.

"Always works with the _Falcon_," he explained.

Leia stalked past him.

-

Darth Vader had learned, even when he followed the Jedi, much about how the minds of sentients worked. He knew when a being had been broken. He'd seen it in the Clone Wars, and worked for it during the Purge.

The young man before him was not quite broken. But he was close.

Closer than Vader really wished.

He had not really thought, until that moment, of what precisely he was going to do with a sudden son. Capture him, obviously. Find out who he thought he was, what he thought he knew, what in the world could possibly have motivated him to be at Padmé's tomb.

But a broken shell would be no use. No use at his side. No use to destroy Palpatine. He wanted his son to be strong, and he would show him the truth. Everything would be as it should have been twenty years ago. Vader had spent those years alternately longing for what he had lost and trying to forget every despised, irrelevant memory of it.

But he would never be tempted by her grave again if he had an heir at his side. He was sure of it. His longing for Padmé was his longing for the missed chance to overthrow Sidious. Nothing more.

His son- Skywalker, as they had told him to call himself- though, was the future.

"They have lied to you," intoned Vader. "They have lied to you, my son, about a great many things."

A low, ragged breath escaped Skywalker. It sounded eerily like one of Vader's own. But he made no further answer.

"I can show you the true power of the Force."

His son shook his head. "You don't know anything… about the Force."

And that statement, simpleheaded and just simply wrong as it was, was perhaps the best opening Vader could have hoped for. His son was not leaping up and immediately throwing lightning about, or at least promises of loyalty to the Empire. But that was to be expected.

He had been misused, and twisted.

But Darth Vader was sure, now, that he could be salvaged.

-

Corporal Yaskii paced.

And paced.

And paced yet more.

He was probably wearing holes even in the metal portions of the floor by this point. He didn't really care. The past day and night had been incredibly, incredibly, _beyond_ the worst time period of his life. But, if he looked on the bright side- what bright side?

No. He would not give into despair. If he looked on the bright side- Vader was leaving soon. That was something. He'd ordered the flagship to maintain a close orbit. And after that, maybe his brother would slink back, everything would return to normal, and he could forget that any of this ever happened.

Yes.

That would be nice.

Then, of course, a crackle came over his comlink.

"Sir! Intruders in corridor twel- argh! Intru…"

What did the galaxy have against him?


End file.
